


Oath Sign

by MidoriKurenaiYume



Category: Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, Animals, Blood and Injury, Cultural Differences, Cultural References, Dialogue, Drama, F/M, Some Humor, War, farm, slightly open ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2020-07-12 00:55:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19937356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidoriKurenaiYume/pseuds/MidoriKurenaiYume
Summary: When her wolf finds an injured man dying in the snow, Arturia brings him to her hut to save him.





	Oath Sign

**Author's Note:**

> This is a GilArt AU set during the Seven Years War and inspired by Last of the Mohicans; not really the book (I'm afraid I'm not a fan) nor the movie (which I liked) though, but the Italian animated series "L'ultimo dei Mohicani" that can be found on YouTube in both English and Italian.  
> I based all cultural references on the cartoon, even though I know some of them to be inaccurate, and I mean no disrespect towards Native Americans.  
> Also, I can't believe I have to say this, but please remember that most descriptions of how to heal a specific injury in this fic are NOT realistic :)
> 
> Thank you to Christy for talking with me about this AU ;)
> 
> Title: from a song by LiSA, first opening of Fate/Zero :P Kalafina sang it together with LiSA at LisAni 2017 :D  
> (I'm [here](https://agilartlogbook.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, and my other account here on AO3 is KMKH, with other GilArt fanfics ;) )

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The wind was blowing harshly against her face, but Arturia paid it little heed. Her hair was kept in place by her sternly braided hairstyle and her skin was shielded from the cold thanks to the heavy clothes she was wearing as she kept running through the snow after Enaya, her wolf. Enaya had seemed slightly restless for the past hour; just a few minutes before, she had suddenly started rasping against the door, signalling that something was wrong, and Arturia had not hesitated to unlock it and follow her out.

Implicitly trusting the spirited wolf’s sense of direction, the blonde woman found herself – not for the first time – feeling extremely happy and grateful that she had become friends with her a few years before.

Enaya had been little more than a pup when five poachers, who had already killed her parents in order to get their fur, had cornered her. She had mauled two of them to death and escaped, landing in Arturia’s path; her intervention was what had prevented her from dying of her injuries. The wolf had been suspicious even after the blonde woman had nursed her back to health, but they had slowly developed a bond of trust during the weeks that followed.

Their unusual friendship wasn’t put to the test when, several months later, they accidentally met the remaining poachers. Arturia had always made a point of never attacking anyone unless they attacked first, but since they immediately attempted to ‘finish the job’ with Enaya, she joined the wolf in the brief confrontation that took place, ensuring that those vile men were taken care of once and for all. Since then, Enaya had more or less become her shadow, a loyal companion on whom Arturia could rely, as she was the only human the wolf had decided to trust.

It was unusual for her companion to appear unsettled by anything, which was why Arturia had become worried about Enaya’s agitated behaviour as she had run out in the snow a short while before. There was currently no storm, but one had just ended, and the colour of the sky – coupled with the fact that it was winter – promised that yet another one was approaching and would reach them in a few short hours. The wolf’s instincts were however strong and had never given Arturia reason to doubt them before, therefore she sprinted after her without hesitation.

For a moment, her face clouded over as the concerns that had occupied her mind lately resurfaced, brought to the forefront by Enaya’s strange behaviour.

The faraway War between the French and the British armies had been going on for a few years already, but she had just recently begun to notice that it wasn’t as far as she had thought it to be. She had also realized that it wasn’t going to be possible for her to keep her neutrality as she had chosen to do when she had first heard of it. She had believed it to be a conflict that, as sad as it was, had nothing to do with her and which she therefore had a duty to avoid – as her father had made her promise – but it was slowly becoming clear to her that such a course of action wasn’t going to work.

It was entirely possible that Enaya’s odd behaviour had something to do with her realization; perhaps the War had reached even the secluded sanctuary where she had decided to live after her father’s death.

Always having somewhat preferred solitude, Arturia had chosen not to live at the Quaker village that had raised her mother, because as much as she respected it, she was unable to fully accept their way of life. At the same time, she had decided not to join the Indian camp that was on the other side of the mountain, even though she had lived there as a child. After her mother’s death and after Arturia’s experiences with the English army, her father Uther had moved with her to an isolated area midway up on the mountain between the two very different villages, where he had discovered an abandoned fort. With her eager help, he had made the necessary changes to transform it into a farm, but he had not lived long enough to see how her efforts managed to make it thrive.

Even though his death left her on her own, Arturia had made the careful decision to remain at the farm while keeping a completely friendly but distant relationship with the two villages. She was fully independent and self-sufficient at the former fort, which meant that she could spend most of her time taking care of the animals and of her vegetable garden, and mostly lead the quiet life she favoured. She did occasionally visit the villages – they were at peace with each other, even though they had no desire to be in contact – in order to trade and occasionally meet people she considered friends, but she mostly kept to her isolation.

She took watchful precautions to ensure that neither village knew the exact location of the farm, only the general direction of where she lived, because she knew that a place that hosted so many animals – including horses – was bound to attract the wrong sort of people. It was perhaps a tad unwise to have no one know where she was in case something happened to her and especially since she did keep her friendly relationships in both villages alive, but she had weighed the risks and decided it was acceptable. She was being careful in having her visits to the two villages be somewhat regular, as in once a month, so that a sudden disappearance would be noticed.

When it came to her possible health problems, she wasn’t overly worried. Her father had been a capable doctor and taught her to look after herself, and living in the Indian village had given her not only a good knowledge of the therapeutic herbs at her disposal, but also insight when it came to healing injured animals – something indispensable in a farm. She did not lead a dangerous life, her brief time in the army notwithstanding, and her small house was very well suited to a self-supporting life. Together with her father, she had rebuilt a part of the fort, transforming it into a hut right next to the mountain, in a position well protected from the harsh wind and the worst winter storms.

Overall, she was perfectly capable of looking after herself, and she planned to do exactly that.

Arturia was brought out of her slightly glum musings by some loud and intense barking coming from the direction where Enaya had disappeared a few seconds before. Without hesitating but putting a hand on the dagger at her side just in case, she rushed forward with new resolve.

The wolf was already turning back towards her, clearly wanting her to make haste, before jumping forward again and stopping by a large pile of snow, splitting her time between barking loudly at it and digging into it with her paws. Arturia observed Enaya’s actions for a moment, confused by them, but then decided that her questions could wait; her wolf was obviously anxious about something that was apparently buried in the snow. Therefore, without wasting another second, she kneeled down and started digging as well, her thick gloves helping her in her endeavour while keeping her hands warm at the same time.

Just a few seconds later, she let out a loud exclamation of surprise: she had found what appeared to be a human arm in the snow.

Enaya’s bark made her snap out of her sudden shock and she immediately resumed digging, discovering that the arm was thankfully attached to a body, a human body that was dressed in clothing far too light for such a cold weather, but who was miraculously still breathing very faintly.

Arturia managed to push enough snow out of the way so that she could rapidly pull the rest of the body out. It became clear that it was a male body, and judging by the fact that his skin was only just beginning to turn blue, he hadn’t been in the snow for long. Nevertheless, what caught and held her attention was a large red patch that started from the man’s shoulder and trailed down both his arm and his chest, showing that he was injured.

His skin colour was light, indicating that he wasn’t a native. Even though she noticed that his clothes were definitely ones that were worn in an army – in spite of that, there was no recognizable flag or colour that would identify his allegiance – which meant that he was probably a soldier, Arturia did not pause as she began to half-carry, half-drag the dying man towards her hut. Enaya helped her, acting as a form of crutch for the other side of the unknown man’s body, and together they slowly made their way back.

It was undoubtedly dangerous to take a stranger into her house, no matter how injured and weakened he appeared to be, but Arturia did not intend to let caution stop her from saving a life in peril. It was true that he might mean her harm once – or if, since she hadn’t been able to fully assess the damage yet – he recovered, but she was determined to deal with that possibility only once she ensured he survived. There was no one else around who could save him and, even though his presence so close to her sanctuary needed to be explained, it did not mean that he should be left to die. Furthermore, she could not forget that her wolf had led her to him with the clear intention of saving him, and given Enaya’s deep and justified distrust towards humans, it had to mean that whoever this man was, he was probably worth saving.

Once they were inside, Arturia put his body down next to the fire and closed the door. Briefly checking that there was enough wood to keep the room warm, she then proceeded to take out as many blankets as she could, arranging them so that the stranger was enveloped in them but so that she could still access his shoulders and chest as well, since she needed to assess the seriousness of his injuries.

Enaya approached her a moment later, nudging her with the nose as she presented her with a pillow, and Arturia gave her a grateful caress as she accepted it and put it underneath the man’s head. The snow that had been left on his body was rapidly melting, making his hair and clothes damp. He was blond, Arturia noticed distractedly, and while his hair was neither very long nor too short, it was of an unusual length for someone supposedly serving in the army. Arturia knew that both the French and the British allowed long hair, but only as long as it could be tied easily, and that was not the case for this man.

Pushing such a random observation out of her mind for the time being, Arturia focused on his shoulder, leaning down to remove his soldier coat and shirt, both damp with snow. While examining his chest in search of the injury, she noticed a few small marks on his back, near the neck, where a soldier uniform was usually applying pressure when it was worn for long hours, and this confirmed that he was not a civilian. But she was getting distracted again, and harshly told herself to only focus on what mattered.

She was relieved to see that the wound, while rather large, was not very deep; its unfortunate position between the shoulder and the neck required however stitches. Quickly reaching for the pot of boiling water she had earlier meant to use for tea, Arturia used it instead to clean the injury and then sterilize the needle she had chosen, one of the smallest she had due to the delicate location of the wound. As she neatly made the thread pull the skin together – her parents had always repeated that she needed to imagine to be sewing fabric instead of skin – she couldn’t help noticing how the wound had clearly been inflicted by a sharp object, something like a knife or a dagger.

Once the injury was properly medicated, she pulled the blankets tightly around the man and gently moved his warmly wrapped body closer to the fire. She had not undressed him completely, but only because the rest of his clothes had merely been slightly damp and therefore not in danger of causing hypothermia. He was lucky not to have been out in the cold for too long.

Rapidly thinking about the place where she had found his body, Arturia recalled that there were a few trees around it. She guessed he must have been injured somewhere else and rested for a while under the trees, where a pile of snow had likely fallen on him.

As she stood up and started warming up Enaya’s meat and some of her stored stew for herself, she eyed the resting man contemplatively. His breathing had evened out after a few minutes, indicating that he had fallen asleep and his life was probably no longer in danger. She was going to try and give him some water at some point, but not right away.

She was beginning to get wary once again.

A rapid glance across the room made her spot all the utensils and weapons she possessed, and she went to gather them and hide them from sight. She was fairly certain that the stranger currently asleep on the floor next to the fire couldn’t be a poacher – since Enaya would _never_ have attempted to save him otherwise – but that did not mean that he was necessarily a decent person. He _had_ after all been wearing a soldier’s garb, and that meant that if he wasn’t a soldier, he was definitely a thief.

Studying his prone form once again, she debated whether to restrain him in some way, as she had noticed that he was taller than her and quite muscular, therefore probably able to attack and possibly overpower her if he regained enough strength. However, she knew from personal experience that some sleep was far from enough for anyone to fully recover from being near hypothermia _or_ recovering from a shoulder injury, much less both. In addition, she reasoned, she had weapons hidden on her person and, if things were truly in danger of getting out of hand, she knew very well that Enaya would intervene, as she was fiercely protective of her.

Having decided, after her brief internal debate, that the potential risks to her safety were manageable, Arturia focused on her meal as Enaya – having already wolfed down hers – came to rest her head on her lap, as she often did in the evenings.

A couple of hours passed before Arturia went to check on the man, touching his forehead carefully since he had started to mumble in his sleep. She knew that being next to the fire influenced the body temperature; therefore, she couldn’t ascertain whether his health was improving, but she could accurately determine that he definitely wasn’t worsening.

Taking a clean cloth, she soaked it in water before bringing it to the man’s mouth, letting a few drops go past his lips and then gently moving his jaw so that he would swallow. She repeated the process several times, until she was certain that he had drunk enough water to avoid immediate dehydration. The entire time, the man remained in a state of unconsciousness, and Arturia knew enough about medicine to know that it was likely a deep sleep caused by exhaustion.

As it was now rather late, she therefore deemed it safe enough to get some rest herself. She knew that Enaya would warn her if the stranger woke up, and even though he certainly didn’t have enough strength to harm her, she was going to lock all the doors – including the one to the pantry – just in case.

She locked the man in, after piling up the fire in the large room where she left him, and went to do the same with the smaller hearth in her bedroom. Enaya waited until her bedcovers were on her before jumping up and curling into a ball at her feet.

Arturia smiled sleepily at her before making herself comfortable as well; the day had been unpredictably long, and if her unexpected guest woke up the next day, she wanted to be ready to confront him in order to find out his identity.

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When Arturia woke up, it took her a few minutes to remember the reason why she had locked her bedroom door. Enaya was still asleep on her bed and the night had passed without incident, which meant that the stranger in the other room was probably still asleep as well – unless he had died, which was also a possibility.

Shaking those morbid thoughts out of her mind, Arturia got dressed and made her way to the other room, with some slight wariness but no fear, because she wasn’t going to be intimidated in her own house, no matter the reason.

He was still asleep next to the fire, his breath slow and even, and appeared to have moved to his side during the night. After feeding Enaya and taking care of some other morning chores inside the hut, Arturia approached him, knowing that she needed to look at his injury. She repeated the process of making him drink water by using the cloth, and then made him lie back before beginning to remove the blankets from his chest to expose his shoulder.

With a frown, she noticed that lying on his side had put pressure on the wound, and the two last stitches – the ones closest to his neck – had come undone. Once again reaching for a needle and some boiling water, Arturia rapidly but carefully started stitching the skin back together.

She was just about to do the last one when the man began to stir. His movements were sluggish, but he seemed to be aware of the fact that someone was touching him close to his neck, because he started moving around in attempt to push her away from him. From the corner of her eye, Arturia saw Enaya approach, her teeth slightly bared in warning but no growl leaving her, meaning that while she was suspicious there seemed to be no real danger.

Leaning forward to firmly yet gently hold the man down by the shoulders – of course avoiding his injury – Arturia thought quickly. She decided it was safe enough to address him in English and tightened her hold on him when he started struggling against her grip in earnest.

“You have sustained a wound on your shoulder,” she said, slowly and clearly, choosing the comforting tone she used when she had to calm down restless animals. “While not fatal, it needed stitching, and that’s what I’m doing. I know it hurts, but please try not to move around while I still have the needle, I’m almost finished.”

Her voice remained soothing and calm and, to her surprise, she did not need to repeat herself, because he stopped struggling, indicating that he understood the language she had chosen. His body’s posture, even though it still showed signs of exhaustion, was still tense, proving that he mistrusted her, and he still hadn’t opened his eyes.

Arturia added one last stitch to make sure the wound wouldn’t reopen, cut the thread, covered the injury with a clean bandage and finally pulled back, her work completed.

“Your wound is dressed now,” she told him, maintaining the same calming tone.

There was no reaction on his part, making her wonder whether he had fallen asleep, before his eyes suddenly opened, and she stared at him in surprise.

His irises were deep crimson, the look in them slightly hazy and unfocused as he blinked several times, but he was quick to look around the room, seemingly taking in every detail with ease and then fixing his stare on her with suspicion.

Although she hadn’t missed his speed in assessing his situation, which told her that he probably wasn’t unused to being in a tight spot, she kept her expression carefully neutral. Whoever this man was, she could not forget that he was injured and, even though he did a good job in concealing it, likely in a lot of pain as well.

She kept looking at him, allowing him a few seconds to observe her, before asking, “Are you feeling able to speak?”

His gaze lingered on her for a moment, and then he cleared his throat with some slight difficulty.

“It appears so.”

His British accent was flawless, even from just those three words, and Arturia nodded at him before handing him a mug full of water. He eyed it suspiciously.

Barely resisting the urge to roll her eyes at such unnecessary caution on his part – she had after all held a needle close to his neck just a minute earlier – she brought the mug to her own lips and took a sip.

“It’s water,” she said simply.

He did not comment and took the mug from her. He drank in very slow sips due to his position, still lying down on the floor. As he did so, Arturia started speaking again.

“My wolf found you dying in the snow yesterday,” she told him, her tone remaining steady and calm. “I brought you inside so you wouldn’t freeze.”

He had stopped drinking the moment she had mentioned the wolf, and Enaya took it as her cue to step forward, entering his field of vision. Arturia had to hide a small grin when she noticed his expression: he did not seem exactly afraid, but mostly confused, slightly disbelieving and slightly apprehensive. She could not deny that she had mentioned her friend on purpose, so that he wouldn’t think she was on her own.

Enaya did not appreciate his eyeing her, and bared her teeth at him as she came closer to Arturia. The man did not shift in his position, but he did not seem entirely at ease either, and the look he gave the wolf was filled with misgiving.

Realizing that the stranger and Enaya were on the verge of beginning a staring contest, Arturia shifted slightly so that her body was between them. The wolf let out a small whine of protest.

“Without my wolf, I would never have found you in time,” she said firmly, a note of warning in her tone, making it clear that she would not accept him voicing his obvious doubts about Enaya.

Seeing that he had emptied his mug, she took it from his hands and pushed two blankets to the side, forming a small heap with them. Then, moving rapidly and not giving him the time to react, she lifted his upper body so that he could sit up, being careful to keep the rest of the blankets around him so that he remained decent.

She ignored his expression of surprise at her swift movements and went to add another log to the fire, leaving Enaya to return his once again suspicious gaze with a threatening one of her own. She then sat back next to him, looking at him carefully.

It was time to ask some questions.

“What is your name?”

He studied her, finally choosing to ignore the wolf’s piercing gaze. Arturia waited.

“You may call me Gilgamesh,” he eventually replied, and she barely held back a sigh. He was clearly choosing to distrust her, and while he had the right to be cautious, the fact that she had saved his life could have prompted him to at least tell her his _full_ name.

To her surprise, he wasn’t done talking.

“I was left out in the storm to die,” he told her, his tone completely nonchalant.

It was her turn to stiffen slightly. She wasn’t going to ask because it was unwise, but she did want to know what he had done to be abandoned in the cold, so far from other villages and War camps. At the same time, she was also amazed by his bluntness in talking about it.

“I was attacked,” he went on indifferently, and she did not miss the fact that he did not specify by whom. “The ones who were with me believed I was going to die of my injury.”

She fought against a frown and raised both eyebrows instead.

“Your wound needed treatment, but it’s rather minor.”

He disregarded her objection and explained, slightly disdainfully, “There was a large amount of blood covering me, and to ignorant people it looked too serious to be cured.”

His eyes flashed for a moment, doing nothing to hide his emotions and, to Arturia’s surprise, Enaya leaned forward, examining him. Gilgamesh stared into the wolf’s dark eyes without any apprehension this time, and there must have been something in his crimson ones that convinced her, because Enaya then abruptly licked his cheek.

Gilgamesh promptly recoiled, and Arturia couldn’t help a sort of half-smile from appearing on her lips as she put a hand on Enaya’s side, making the wolf turn towards her and sit down, deciding that now that she had assessed him, she could once again ignore the guest’s presence.

He was still wiping his cheek where the wolf had licked him, and he was muttering some extremely colourful curse words under his breath as he did so. Arturia noticed however that they weren’t in English.

After a moment of hesitation, she rose to get a clean cloth and offered it to him, and he took it without question this time, cleaning his cheek and passing it over the rest of his face as well. She had a feeling that his eyes had been extremely intent on her as she had stood up, and perhaps he had meant to make a comment on her short stature, but she didn’t give him the opportunity to do so.

“Your mother tongue isn’t English,” she observed quietly, speaking in French. He snapped his head up to stare at her, now seeming guarded again. “Yet your accent is perfect.”

He scrutinized her for a long moment before lying back against the blankets, no longer seeming concerned about her discovery.

“So is your French accent,” he countered, going back to speaking English.

She shrugged, handing him another mug full of water. Again he accepted it without any more suspicions.

“My grandmother was French,” she said simply. “And _you_ are French.”

He did not deny it and merely kept staring at her. Perhaps it was due to the unusual colour of his eyes, but there was something unnerving about being at the receiving end of such an intense look. The fact that he was slowly beginning to smile – with a smile that closely resembled a smirk – also played a part in it.

“What were you doing in the middle of the forest, and on this specific mountain?” she asked, deciding to simply disregard his scrutiny and finally try to get some real answers. She did not ask him about his knowledge of the English language, as she somehow knew he wouldn’t have answered her, or at least, not truthfully.

He looked bored when he replied, “I was curious about this unknown part of the wilderness that I had never heard of before, and was exploring.”

“Right.” She did not believe him, but did not voice her skepticism. Even though, judging by his grin, he appeared to be fully aware of it – and it seemed to amuse him greatly.

“I joined some travellers who entertained me,” he continued, tone idle, although some hardness seemed to suddenly creep into it. “But they were cowards, and unfortunately it only came to my attention once we crossed the river at the feet of the mountain.”

Arturia sucked in a sharp breath. She had started to form an opinion on Gilgamesh and she had concluded that he was quite intelligent, but perhaps she had overvalued the soundness of his judgement.

“You went into the Moose territory? Are you insane?”

He gave her an appraising sort of look.

“I did not believe the superstitions about the Moose spirit.” He paused, and Arturia had the distinct impression that he did it for dramatic effect. “Clearly, there was some truth to them.”

“ _Some_ truth?” Arturia exclaimed, starting to lose her cool. “Didn’t you just say that you knew nothing of those territories, yet now you claim that you _specifically_ went in to provoke the Moose spirit?” She shook her head as she regarded him in disbelief. “It’s a miracle you even survived.”

To her chagrin, he smirked at her.

“The Moose would probably agree with you,” he said casually. “Or maybe not – seeing as it let me leave without incident.”

Arturia’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. If he was telling the truth – and this time, she was inclined to believe so – it opened the lid of a jar full of questions that she needed answered.

However, she was not blind, and she could see that some evident signs of fatigue were beginning to appear on his face. Standing up, she returned after a few minutes with a small bowl full of hot soup and yet another mug of water.

“Drink this and then sleep,” she ordered, even though her tone was far too kind to give her words any real bite. “You need to rest.”

He gave her a long, searching glance, but Arturia merely gestured to the bowl and turned away, heading towards the door. Enaya rose to her feet, stretching slightly before following her.

As she left the hut with her coat in hand and closed the door, Arturia pulled her hair out of her messy bun and started to braid it quickly. She may have a peculiar guest on whom she needed to keep an eye, but she also had chores around the farm and it was still morning.

A glance at the window confirmed to her that Gilgamesh had already drained the soup and was arranging the blankets so to be able to rest some more. Even though she did not plan to lower her guard, she wasn’t too worried about him causing her harm anymore, especially since she had been able to ascertain that he still couldn’t get to his feet on his own. She suspected that in a few hours, after some more rest, he would manage to, but until then, she had work to do around the farm.

She could not forget that there had been yet another snowstorm the previous night, which meant that she had to check on the animals and the vegetable garden.

Throwing her long braid away from her face, Arturia headed to the stables, ready to start her day.

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She was pleased to find out that the latest storm hadn’t caused much damage. Some of her plants outside the sort-of greenhouse were a bit ruffled, but the animals didn’t seem to have been affected at all. The horses were still a bit restless due to the prolonged stillness, but calmed under her care. Arturia was confident that the weather would improve drastically the next day, so she could let them out a little longer.

The cows, pigs and sheep were peaceful and did not seem in any way fazed by the three consecutive snowstorms. The hen house had been instead slightly damaged and Arturia set to work on it immediately before collecting the eggs. Two of the smaller pillars in the middle of the room appeared to have now some cracks in them; it was high time to permanently substitute them, and she luckily had a solid replacement ready.

Without hesitation – only sparing the time to warn Enaya off the chicken, and the wolf always obeyed somewhat regretfully – she carried over the new large, heavy pole, and fixed it in place. It was going to need some more work to become completely stable, but it would have to do for a few days, as she knew that that job would require several hours and there were matters that were more urgent in the greenhouse.

The plants were all in good state, but they required water and compost in order to keep thriving. Soon she was covered in sweat, but she was smiling; she absolutely loved working in her garden, and she was privately grateful that she had decided to install a small washroom in the greenhouse, so that she could freshen up without the need to go inside the hut and see her current guest for a while.

She didn’t pause in her work around the plants as she carefully thought about him.

Gilgamesh was probably French, although she couldn’t be entirely sure of that, because while he had not denied it, he hadn’t confirmed it either. He certainly didn’t look like a traveller, and she very much doubted he had given her a truthful account of the reason why he had ended up injured in the snow. He had also avoided mentioning anything about the army, even though she couldn’t doubt the fact that he was – or had been – part of one.

He was very reluctant to offer much information about himself, but at the same time, he didn’t truly seem to care about her finding out. He was no fool, and the certain carelessness in his behaviour she could spot appeared to be strangely deliberate. He seemed to have some surprisingly accurate knowledge of Indian culture, but also some indifference, if not even contempt; yet if that was the case, why had the Moose spirit spared him? Assuming the story he had told her was the truth, that was a feat of no small importance.

Arturia had met the Moose spirit herself when she had accidentally entered its territory a few years before; the fact that she had shown deep respect for the forest had made the animal benevolent and she had been ‘accepted’ by it. Since then, all large predators, including bears, had approached the farm only to let her pet them, never showing any hostile intent towards her.

Recently, however, there had been a change.

Arturia’s expression darkened as she remembered the groups of scared and heavily injured animals that had started to appear around the farm. She understood and accepted hunting, as it was a fundamental law of the forest and all animals were part of it; but chaos and disruption of the forest only to let humans force their way through was another thing entirely.

She could no longer avoid facing the fact that its cause was the War.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t just the animals that were affected because of armies clearly walking through the forests. The last two times she had been to the villages, the blonde woman had found injured people in both the Indian and the Quaker one. She had offered her services as a healer right away and it hadn’t taken her more than a few moments to recognize that those were gunshot wounds, and some of them – on both humans and animals – were definitely not caused by hunting parties, but by rifles, and some even by cannon fire.

The only place where such weapons could be found was the army, but both the British and the French army were supposed to be fighting each other far, far away from there. Apparently, that was no longer the case, and Arturia had realized it with a sinking feeling in her chest.

She was determined to keep her promise to her father and not attempt to interfere when it didn’t concern her, but if her friends in the villages where she had grown up were being affected by the War, then wasn’t she affected after all as well?

Besides, hiding away in her sanctuary while people died around her was not something she wanted to do. No one in the villages had died yet, but Arturia was under no illusions: if the War truly came – and there was no mistaking the fact that it _was_ coming – it would leave nothing short of a massacre behind.

She had paused slightly in her work around the plants as she pondered over the War. She had not experienced real war during her time in the army, but having taken part in a few battles had more than showed her how much horror there could be in them. If there was no other solution to protect her farm and the people she cared about, especially since they were peaceful people, she was more than willing – and ready – to fight.

But she kept hoping against hope that it would not be necessary, because she had given her father her word.

Arturia sighed, and willed herself to focus back on her gardening work.

Unbeknownst to her, inside the hut Gilgamesh had not immediately fallen asleep, and had manoeuvred his body so that he had a good view out of the window. From there he could see outside and therefore catch glimpses of her when she passed in front of it.

He was curious about her.

The fact that she had saved his life was minor compared to the fact that she was a rather interesting person. What he had seen about her so far had told him that she was hardworking, very composed and had a strangely close relationship with the forest and the animals, considering her respect for what most people considered silly traditions and her close relationship with that large wolf.

He had also noticed that she didn’t dress the way most European women did, and instead of a long skirt she wore practical, long breeches and what he recognized as a typical Indian garb on top. Yet while she was obviously comfortable in this secluded environment – as far as he had been able to tell, there was no one else living with her aside from the animals, and he hadn’t even suspected there could be a farm so well hidden in the mountain – she seemed completely familiar with the world outside as well. Even though she spoke both English and French without an accent, he was quite certain that while she had admitted to having some French ancestry, she was more used to the British way of life. This could pose a problem to him if he stayed for a long while, as he did not intend for her to find out too much about him.

Gilgamesh shifted slightly, and felt a small stab of pain coming from his shoulder at the sudden movement. He frowned somewhat as he removed the bandage briefly and turned his head with some difficulty to check on his wound: the stitches were flawless. That meant that this woman had to have some knowledge of medicine too.

He realized that he still didn’t know her name, and it hadn’t even occurred to him to ask it until now. The thought amused him; she was _definitely_ interesting enough to have made him forget to inquire after her identity. He knew that his exhaustion was however equally responsible.

He looked around the room carefully once again. The décor was very simple and essential; the only things that didn’t seem to have practical use were three drawings on the wall, probably made in charcoal, of a man and two women, one of which was the one who had taken him in and the others he could assume were her parents, given the similarities between them.

Everything else was clearly around only to serve its purpose. There was a conspicuous lack of weapons of any kind, as there were no harmful objects that he could see, and this made him raise an eyebrow. Surely a young woman who lived alone – no matter how inoffensive she appeared to be – had to have something to defend herself with. It was true that she had that wolf that seemed to follow her everywhere, but she certainly needed some kind of weapon to protect herself–…

A moment later, he almost gaped at the window when he saw the petite woman he had been thinking about walk across the small yard holding a huge wooden pole that was at least twice as tall as she was. And what was more, there was hardly any sign of fatigue on her face.

After a stunned few seconds, Gilgamesh felt himself grinning. It was entirely possible that he had underestimated the woman’s strength.

He shifted again, being more careful with his shoulder, and lay down in a position that promised him some hours of restful sleep.

….…

…

.

…

….…

When Arturia walked back into the hut much later in the day, her chores finished and her muscles aching in a pleasantly accomplished sort of way, she was carrying two baskets full of eggs and the vegetables she had collected.

A glance at the fireplace confirmed that her guest was still asleep, so she set to prepare something to eat, knowing that he was going to be hungry once he woke up and he would need more than just soup. Besides, she was hungry as well, and judging by the enthusiastic way in which Enaya was wagging her tail, her wolf was hungry too.

She needed to move Gilgamesh to a different position for eating, and therefore went to gently shake him awake. He had thankfully already started to stir and didn’t offer more than a nod when she asked him whether he was able to sit up on his own. To her surprise, he studied the floor for a moment, before slowly standing up without a trace of dizziness or insecurity in his expression.

Arturia politely directed him to the washroom and left him to his own devices as she worked on the meal. Enaya periodically made low, impatient sounds next to her, at least until Gilgamesh reappeared and leisurely took a seat in one of the chairs, looking relaxed and not at all like someone who had been on the verge of death just the day before. The only indication that something was amiss was the fact that he was still enveloped in blankets.

“You haven’t actually introduced yourself,” he said suddenly, patently ignoring the way the wolf was staring at him.

Arturia paused in her actions. She had been working in a way that allowed her to keep an eye on him, because she did not intend to turn her back to him. It had completely escaped her mind to tell him her name, and an inner voice that startlingly resembled her father’s lectured her for her lack of manners.

She briefly debated with herself whether it was wise to tell him her full name, and ultimately decided her first name would suffice.

“I’m Arturia,” she said briefly, putting down the utensils. She had hidden all the sharp knives the previous evening as well, making it slightly difficult to chop food with the blunt ones.

He did not seem to acknowledge her words, as he was currently engaged in a staring contest with Enaya, who was eyeing him with some definite interest. If the look on his face was anything to go by, he did _not_ like to be on the receiving end of such interest.

“Your wolf is looking at me as if I’m edible,” he declared a moment later, looking annoyed.

Arturia inclined her head to the side.

“Technically, you are,” she couldn’t help pointing out kindly, before whistling briefly, making Enaya look at her with disappointed eyes. “But you won’t do as snack for Enaya.”

Gilgamesh seemed truly insulted now – but as she immediately found out, for the wrong reasons.

“I am worth much more than a _snack_ , even for such a bulky wolf. I would be a full meal,” he claimed with a huff, and she just stared at him, blinking, unable to believe that he had indeed just said something so ridiculous.

Trying to bring the conversation back to normal, she ignored his last comment and simply told him, “Her name is Enaya.”

She then proceeded to give the wolf her large portion of meat – which Enaya caught with great pleasure – and then carried two plates to the table, before leaving again to bring a jug of water as well. She had installed a new access to the well from inside the house just a couple of years before, making it easier to get water and so that she didn’t need to go outside every time. She had also put some water to boil to ensure they could have tea after the meal.

They ate in silence, Gilgamesh sometimes throwing dirty looks in the wolf’s direction when Enaya looked at his plate expectantly, at least until Arturia barely refrained from rolling her eyes and shared some of her food with the wolf. She then cleaned up the table and arranged some more blankets next to the fire, before carrying the now boiling pot towards the table.

She glanced at Gilgamesh, whose eyes were following her movements.

“You need more rest,” she informed him, her expression leaving no room for argument. “This tea guarantees a peaceful sleep.”

She could _see_ that he was getting ready to argue with her, but she wasn’t going to stand for it.

“It’s relaxing herbal tea, not poison,” she told him, her tone dry. “And as soon as the infusion is ready, I’m going to drink it too.”

He didn’t look entirely convinced, but she wasn’t going to waste her time in trying to assure him that she had no ill intentions. As he took a seat on his makeshift bed next to the fire, she took out the rectangular woollen cloths she had knitted during the past few weeks and started to slowly and carefully crochet them together with a robust thread. She wasn’t particularly gifted when it came to such activities, but she was determined to improve her skills as much as possible nonetheless.

“What are you doing?”

She was so focused on getting the long needle to do the right movement for the fourth time in a row that she didn’t even look up at his question.

“The idea was to make a new blanket for Enaya,” she replied absently. “However, if I keep the needlework so uneven, it will instead become a rug.”

There was a moment of silence.

“And where would you put it?”

She did not register the amusement in his voice, and instead said truthfully, “Probably in front of the fire, Enaya enjoys curling up in front of it and the floor isn’t particularly warm.”

Having finished a particularly complicated angle and knowing that two more evenings of crochet would complete it, Arturia stood up to pour the tea in two mugs. As she glanced at Gilgamesh to offer him one, she found him studying her with a strangely thoughtful look in his eyes. He had not moved from his spot on the floor.

“If you are feeling better tomorrow, I would appreciate you standing up to at least get your tea on your own.”

There was no reproach in her tone; she had made a simple observation, and did not necessarily expect a reply. She turned off the candles and was about to turn away to go to her room in order to drink her own tea and then sleep, when she caught his eye.

Something peculiar had appeared on his features, and it took Arturia a few seconds to realize it was a smirk.

“I’ll consider it, but only because you saved my life.”

….…

…

.

…

….…

He did not speak idly, as he did indeed start to move around her hut more and occasionally help her with small tasks.

She was still careful, keeping the weapons hidden and the pantry locked, and she knew he had noticed, because he had made a few seemingly casual inquiries about her food storages and the absence of harmful objects. She had evaded the interrogation with equal indifference and turned it around to question his ability – or lack thereof – with weapons of any kind, as she had the impression he would be more than capable of using a gun. He had confirmed that that was the case because he had been part of an army at some point, and then he changed the subject.

Several conversations ended the same way, and the more Gilgamesh started to be able to walk around without help, the more Arturia realized how incredibly _exasperating_ he could be when he chose to.

To her chagrin, he seemed to genuinely _enjoy_ purposefully behaving in a way that would rile her up.

She truly shouldn’t have worried about protecting herself from him; just a few days after his arrival, she was too busy trying to hold her frustration in check, for he was soon going to need someone to protect _him_ from _her_.

One morning, he decided to make a series of unhelpful comments about the way she was attempting to tan the hides and skins, and even had the gall to scoff at her as she fought an internal battle in order to control her temper, something he could obviously read on her face. She forced herself to ignore him and focused on her task, which was proving to be much more difficult than she had expected.

Suddenly, Gilgamesh was next to her.

“Move over.”

His tone was bored and commanding at the same time, managing to annoy her straightaway. If she hadn’t been so irritated, such a talent on his part would have impressed her, but since she _was_ on the verge of losing her patience, she gritted her teeth and simply remained where she was. She did not intend to follow his orders.

She heard him sigh; he was now clearly beginning to get annoyed as well.

The next moment, she barely managed to stifle an exclamation as he unceremoniously lifted her in the air and deposited her a few meters away, without much apparent effort, and without any regard whatsoever for his still healing shoulder.

Arturia was indignant about his disregard for his health _and_ his obnoxiousness towards her, but once again, she didn’t have the time to even open her mouth to let her outrage pour out, because he was giving her a look that held both haughty superiority and self-satisfied composure.

“I’m only going to do this once, so watch carefully and learn.”

He set to work on the hides, and even though she intended to launch into a tirade against him anyway, Arturia stopped when she took a good look at what he was doing.

His movements were confident and precise, bespeaking an uncanny ability undoubtedly stemming from a long practice. He knew _exactly_ what he was doing, he knew exactly how to tan the skins; and since she did need to use them, she had no choice but to swallow her pride and not only let him finish, but also do just what he had said, namely watch and learn.

She was certainly not going to try to fill the sudden silence with pointless conversation, and of course, this cognizance only served to irritate her further.

Once he was finished, Gilgamesh gave her a condescending smirk.

“ _This_ is how you properly tan the hides.”

There was a pause, just a split second, but long enough for Arturia to become aware of the fact that, whatever he was going to say next, it was not going to inspire any kind feelings towards him.

She was right.

“This is in fact rather pathetic. You own a farm – it should be _expected_ of you to know how to properly tan the hides and the skins.”

She wasn’t just irritated this time; she was _offended_.

She raised her chin, looking square into those crimson eyes that seemed to do nothing but look down on her.

“My priority is to look after the needs and take care of animals who are _alive_ , not to work with dead ones,” she pointed out sharply. “The only reason I have been doing this is because of your presence here.”

Gilgamesh’s eyebrows rose slightly, and he suddenly took a step closer to her.

“You don’t usually do this then.”

He clearly meant it as a question, despite the fact that he would never phrase it as one, at least not directly.

Arturia gave a nod in confirmation, her expression now managing to be much more controlled. She wasn’t going to tell him that she usually went to one of the villages the rare times when she needed to do such work – as her friend Rin was much more proficient at it – but she had decided not to go on this occasion because she did not trust Gilgamesh alone at the farm. Perhaps he had already guessed as much from her stony expression.

“You need decent clothes to survive the cold season,” she said matter-of-factly. “I assume it will please you to know that you just took care of tanning your own future clothes.”

This time, he didn’t have an immediate response, and Arturia could not deny the fact that she felt a certain satisfaction at being able to shut him up, regardless of how brief the reprieve was going to be.

“You’re throwing me out,” he said slowly after a long moment of silence.

“I am not,” she replied instantly, once again slightly offended. “If I had planned to throw you out before you were fully recovered, I would have left you in the snow in the first place.”

Arturia’s eyes narrowed when he seemed to ignore her words and came even closer to her, so close in fact that his breath reached her cheek.

“Yet you’re sending me away,” he said. “You want me to be gone.”

She considered the implied question. She also considered whether or not he deserved a truthful answer.

“Sometimes, I definitely do,” she told him carefully. It wasn’t a lie. “You have however proved your usefulness on a not small number of occasions, no matter how irritatingly so.” Again, it wasn’t a lie. “Once you’re healed, you should make your way back.”

She was becoming far too good at not telling lies yet avoiding the truth at the same time, but Gilgamesh wasn’t going to allow it anymore.

He was scrutinizing her closely, and something glinted in his eyes. Something powerful and intense, that almost made Arturia stiffen.

“And once you’ll be done avoiding the subject, maybe you’ll answer my real inquiry.” His tone sounded amused, but he was serious. “Do _you_ want me gone forever, Arturia?”

She was the one who did not have an answer this time, neither a lie nor the truth. His eyes seemed to light up and he took one last step closer. There was no more distance between them, and Arturia was struck by how intimate such a position seemed to be.

He leaned down, towards her face – and she did not move away.

A low growl coming from the other side of the room stopped Gilgamesh’s actions.

He turned his head to send a look at Enaya, who was placidly sitting on the newly finished rug in front of the fire, her head resting on her paws. The wolf only had one eye open, but it was fixated on Gilgamesh with an unwavering stare.

Gilgamesh didn’t even attempt to hold back his displeasure.

“Is your watchdog actually some form of a parent to you, considering that it doesn’t seem to want to allow me to come any closer to you, much less kiss you?”

Determinedly ignoring his last words, Arturia forced her features into an indifferent expression. The intimacy of the previous moment was gone, and she unconsciously took a subtle step back.

“It’s a rather far-fetched possibility, but my parents _are_ dead, and according to my culture, the spirits of the deceased can inhabit animals if they so choose. I wouldn’t be overly surprised if that happened to be true.”

Gilgamesh just stared at her incredulously before letting out a short, slightly frustrated laugh, letting a hand pass through his hair. Arturia noticed that he did not use the arm where his injury was; he was still recovering. There was no reason for him to leave… yet.

Giving no indication that he had seen her eyes follow his movement, he huffed, sounding exasperated.

“You are a _spectacularly_ impossible woman, Arturia.”

She was decidedly unmoved by his statement, and she let him know by raising an eyebrow at him.

“Coming from you, I’m rather tempted to consider it a compliment.”

….…

…

.

…

….…

He had helped her collect some more vegetables, which she was currently chopping in order to prepare some more stew. Without being asked to, Gilgamesh had filled the largest pot she had with water and put it to boil.

Arturia had finally caved and taken out two sharper knives to work more easily in the kitchen, and he was currently examining one. She was no longer too wary of him, but that did not mean that she would lower her guard entirely.

“Be careful with that, you might cut yourself,” she commented lightly as Enaya calmly sat next to the fire, clearly showing that the new rug was quickly becoming her favourite place in the hut.

Gilgamesh scoffed at her, and she noticed from the corner of her eye that he was holding the knife with steadfast confidence.

“Only a fool wouldn’t know how to use this,” he told her. “Especially since it makes for a very efficient weapon.”

Maybe it was because he sensed the fact that she stiffened slightly at those words, yet what struck her as strange wasn’t the fact that he noticed her reaction, but that he did something about it. Making a show of holding back a sigh, he put the knife down and went to sit on a chair. She could feel his eyes on her as she kept chopping.

It was probably a good moment to bring up a few things she had noticed – and perhaps confront him about his loyalties as well.

“You said you were part of an army,” she observed, bringing the vegetables to the pot. “But it wasn’t the British army.”

He was still staring at her and, instead of denying it, he simply said, in a bored and even condescending tone, “I see you have started making assumptions now.”

Unfazed, she went on, “You weren’t in the British army, because the way you talk about weapons is not typical of the British army.”

He looked decidedly annoyed now and his tone became slightly testy as he interjected, “Your claims have no logical basis. How would you even have such knowledge?”

Arturia’s expression now betrayed some slight humour as she began to stir the pot.

“Because _I_ was in the British army.”

This revelation managed to truly surprise him, and a short silence followed. The only sounds to be heard were those of the slowly boiling pot.

“It’s a bit much to ask me to believe that the British army is advanced enough to have women join.”

At those words, Arturia’s mood darkened considerably.

“Indeed it is not,” she acknowledged, managing to conceal her bitterness with a neutral tone. “I was asked to leave once they found out my gender.” She held his gaze without blinking. “Nevertheless, I did spend almost five years there, and I know it rather well.”

There was a short pause. “Do not try to change the subject,” she continued, her voice now slightly sterner. “You have never been in the British army – and that means that you were in the French army.”

He looked at her in a completely unabashed way before inclining his head to the side.

“It certainly took you a while to figure that out, Arturia.”

She growled under her breath, and her wolf’s ears perked at the sound. He certainly did not waste any time when it came to try and irritate her further. She put the pot of the table and turned to face him.

“Were you part of the French army… or are you _still_ part of that army?”

He did not reply to her, and instead made to suddenly move back from the table and stand up.

Before he could do so, Arturia was next to him in a flash, her concealed dagger in her hand and pointing steadily at his throat.

He froze, staring at her. Enaya had stood up as well, even though she was clearly not going to intervene.

“Answer the question,” Arturia said in a low voice, making sure he understood her seriousness.

Gilgamesh’s eyes were assessing her, obviously deciding what to tell her. He was not underestimating the threat of her dagger against his throat, but he did not seem to be overly bothered by it either.

Eventually, he shook his head slowly.

“I’m no longer in the French army.”

Arturia’s hand did not move away from his neck.

“You’re a liar,” she said simply, and this seemed to surprise him. “You seem to forget that I had to remove your clothes when I found you in the snow. While not having any visible insignia, the fabric is the kind that can only be found on French officials.”

He raised an eyebrow, somewhat impressed.

“How would you even know that?”

Arturia felt a stab of annoyance at the way he kept asking her questions and she kept replying instead of interrogating him.

“I told you my grandmother was French,” she reminded him. “She was the daughter of a soldier, and she kept the fabric of his uniform to use it as decoration for her house.”

He considered this, but then seemed to discard the thought in order to inform her, with a slight smirk, “I did not lie to you, Arturia. I was indeed in the French army until very recently, but I’m what you would call… oh yes… a _deserter_.”

Arturia almost recoiled from him. He was _what?_

He looked completely unapologetic when he saw her reaction.

“I had more than enough reasons to no longer want to be part of an army that refuses to put an end to this senseless War and is instead determined to drag it out for as long as possible – without any regard whatsoever for the lives sacrificed in it.”

Something about his suddenly stone-cold expression told Arturia that he must be referring to a specific incident, probably a loss that had affected him personally. There was a coldness and anger in his crimson eyes that she had never seen before, and she sensed that it was probably wise not to ask more about it.

Instead, she chose to focus on something else that his words had implied.

“The War is here then. It’s actually here,” she whispered, somewhat in shock. She finally let her arm fall back to her side.

Mechanically, she filled two plates with food, gave Enaya her portion and then sat down, starting to eat silently. Gilgamesh gave her a strange look, but followed her example.

It was only halfway through the meal that he said bluntly, “The War has been here for a long time. Perhaps not close to this specific region, but it has hardly left any part of this territory in peace. And even though this farm is isolated and safe, you _must_ have noticed.”

Arturia could not contradict him. She knew that her sanctuary granted her a quiet life, but she also knew that it created a bubble away from the rest of the world, creating an illusion of peace while outside things changed. And she had not been blind about it: she had seen the injured people, the scared animals, the effects on the forests. She could pretend all of that wasn’t true by staying in her safe haven, but it wasn’t going to work, and she knew it was wrong as well.

Doing something was the answer. However, it made little sense to jump into a War she didn’t fully understand, and blindly picking a side wasn’t going to solve anything either. _Something_ had to be done in order to end the War.

They finished eating without exchanging another word, and as she put her spoon down, Arturia had determined that the first thing she needed to do was gather information, which meant that she was going to have to leave her farm.

This was already giving her a problem, not just because there were a lot of animals she had to look after, but also because she presently had a guest. She did not intend to leave him alone at the farm while she went to the villages, especially since he was now almost fully healed. She did not distrust him anymore, but she had to take precautions and needed to remember that she only had his word when it came to the story of his defection.

“How did you end up on this mountain if you are a deserter?” she suddenly asked him. “You were not telling the truth when you mentioned some travellers you just happened to be with, were you?”

He finished his stew and gave her a completely unperturbed glance.

“I was,” he contradicted her calmly. “My _fellow_ soldiers did not approve of my efforts towards peace, so I left the army. They approved even less of that.” He let out a frustrated sigh. “They followed me and killed the civilian travellers I was with in their attempts to get at me. I escaped thanks to the snowstorm and they thought they had fatally injured me, because they didn’t pursue me. However, I was without supplies and weapons, and the last thing I remember is sitting down to rest and then feeling the snow falling on me.”

Arturia pondered over his words very carefully. If he was telling the truth – and it seemed that he was this time – then there were people who wanted him dead in the French army; in fact, people who _thought_ him dead. That was another argument in favour of not letting a man believed to be dead alone at her farm, even if it _would_ have been a cunning choice at the same time.

The fact that she was thinking hard was plain to see, and it was equally clear that he was rather fascinated by it.

In a flippant tone, he abruptly added, “While you keep thinking about what I told you, we could get married in the meantime, so that you stop worrying about what to do next.”

It took a few seconds for her to absorb his words, and then she simply gaped at him.

He grinned at her, seemingly unaffected by her flabbergasted expression. “I would be extremely happy to become your husband.”

Realizing that he was probably mocking her, she glared at him, trying to hold herself back from delivering a solid whack to his head. She had no patience for his games.

As if he had read her mind, his grin widened slowly. “My proposal is not a joke, Arturia. Considering your options and what to do about this War is obviously important, but while you decide, getting married would certainly not come amiss.”

Exasperated, Arturia stood up, heading for her bedroom with Enaya following close on her heels.

“Another word and I will throw the empty pot at your face,” she said dryly, locking the door before he could say anything else.

Once she was alone, Arturia stared at the wooden ceiling for several long, quiet minutes, the wolf standing next to her and encouraging her to scratch her behind her ears, which she did absent-mindedly.

She had a lot of thinking to do.

….…

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…

….…

The following morning saw Arturia preparing some kind of sweets while she argued with Gilgamesh for two straight hours before eventually – and very reluctantly – giving in and having him come with her as she left the farm to go visit the nearby villages.

She wanted to find out more about the War, but she also wanted to take most of her animals to a place where they would be properly looked after, and the Indian village was perfect for that. In fact, she was quite certain that her friend Rin was going to be delighted, as she had a rather large farm of her own and had often mentioned wanting to add more animals to it.

Gilgamesh was trailing behind her as she guided the cattle towards the village, Rin running towards her happily and eagerly welcoming the animals. Enaya was running around him in circles, and a few times she even allowed him to pet her, something he did rather absently and Arturia noticed with a hidden grin. He seemed to be looking around the village with a very strange sort of interested curiosity.

By talking with Rin for a while, Arturia soon became aware of the fact that the War was indeed making its presence known. There were already less people at the village, because some had chosen to fight, picking a side and getting involved. Arturia didn’t like the sound of that.

When Rin asked her some questions about the man who was with her, Arturia shook her head and promised her it was a story she would tell her another time.

Taking her leave from her friend, knowing that the animals were in good hands, she went to greet the group of children who always played at the village’s entrance and gave them the sweets she had prepared earlier.

Gilgamesh watched her keenly as she did this, and noticed how she spoke in their language when addressing them. One of them gestured towards him, trying and failing to be discreet while asking Arturia a question. Gilgamesh was somewhat surprised to see her look slightly amused before then shaking her head and giving them a short reply.

As they left the Indian village to start walking towards the Quaker one – it was going to take a few hours to get there, even at a brisk pace – Gilgamesh approached her, ignoring Enaya’s suspicious eyes on him.

“Did the children ask you if I was your husband?”

His tone was slightly smug, because as they had made their way down the mountain, he had not failed to remind her of his proposal from the evening before, self-assuredly telling her that she no longer had the pot to threaten him with.

Arturia however did not react with an eye-roll or a glare; she gave him a rather amused glance.

“Not exactly. They asked if you were my slave.”

She thoroughly enjoyed his deeply affronted expression and patiently spent the following minutes explaining to him why he couldn’t and shouldn’t go back to express his displeasure towards the innocent children.

Once he had calmed down enough, Arturia was surprised when Gilgamesh started asking her questions about her past as they kept walking. She was cautious at first, but then decided that she could risk telling him a few things.

“How old were you when you joined the army?”

“Twelve,” she said briefly. “I received my training during the first year and then joined the other soldiers on active duty.”

“When did they find out your gender?”

“When I was seventeen. While evacuating a civilian camp, I was injured and they found out when they treated me.”

“Did they throw you out of the army?”

“After I had served alongside them for so long, they found it more reasonable to simply ask me to leave on my own instead of having to enforce the rule of no women in the army.”

“Did you enjoy it there?”

“It taught me a lot. Especially that things aren’t black and white as I had previously thought them to be, when I believed the army did nothing but good things.”

His questions were however not only about her time in the army, but also about her family.

“If you grandmother was French, why do you call yourself British?”

“My grandmother married an Englishman, so my father considered himself British even though he grew up learning from both cultures.”

“And what about your mother?”

“She was actually Indian, but as her parents were killed, she was taken in and raised by Quakers for half her life. She died when I was little… fever, during a very harsh winter.”

She had questions for him as well though, and planned to ask them all.

“Where did you learn to speak English so well?”

“My situation is similar yet opposite when compared to yours. My father was French, my mother is British.”

“Does that mean that she’s alive?”

“Alive and busy hosting the most elegant tea parties in London.”

“Yet you seem to be extremely familiar with Indian culture – and with life in the wilderness.”

“I may be French, but I spent some years living with the Indians. My mother’s half-sister is Indian.”

“Is that the reason why you chose to desert?”

“No. That… is because of… a friend.”

She knew that this was a subject about which she couldn’t ask anything else, so she insisted on the War instead.

“Don’t you believe that both sides of the War are wrong?”

“Definitely.”

“And that they shouldn’t be fighting in someone else’s home, as they are doing here?”

“Shouldn’t that be enough of a reason for you to get involved, Arturia?”

The blunt question caught her off guard.

He pressed, “This War isn’t being fought for noble purposes, and that should already be enough to make you want to end it. But the fact that it’s affecting the homes of innocent bystanders _must_ shake your sense of righteousness.”

Arturia chewed on her lip for a tense moment.

“I made my father a promise,” she finally admitted. “I swore I would not let my _sense of righteousness_ make me intervene in things that do not concern me.”

Gilgamesh seemed to want to smile at this.

“Do you truly believe that this War does not concern you?”

The question remained unanswered, because the Quaker village appeared in front of them, and Arturia hastened her steps to reach it.

She was greeted warmly as usual, and immediately went to look for her friend Irisviel, who had recently gotten married to a former French soldier. Arturia didn’t like him very much, but she cared about Irisviel and wanted to talk with them about the War.

She was surprised, however, when both Irisviel and Kiritsugu recognized her companion.

“General Gilgamesh!” Irisviel exclaimed in shock after she had greeted Arturia and then spotted the man standing behind her.

Enaya remained standing near the entrance, as she had always been diffident towards Irisviel and her distrust for Kiritsugu was mutual. At Irisviel’s cry, the wolf came to Gilgamesh’s side and let out a warning growl.

Arturia turned to look at him with her eyebrows raised. She could not hide her astonishment.

“You did not tell me that you were a General.”

He completely ignored Irisviel and Kiritsugu’s presence and briefly petted Enaya before giving Arturia a slightly haughty stare.

“Did you honestly believe I was just a simple soldier?”

Thinking about it for a second, Arturia had to admit that no, she hadn’t truly thought he was anything but a high-ranking French official, but either way, she had not expected a _General_ to become a deserter.

Once everyone’s surprise had faded, Arturia explained the reason for her visit, and Kiritsugu and Irisviel confirmed her fears. The Quakers were a peaceful folk, but both the British and the French armies had already raided their village twice, looking for food and supplies.

The War was there.

Before they could leave, Irisviel took Arturia aside to question her about Gilgamesh’s presence, but once again, the blonde woman evaded them, even if with some discomfort. Irisviel did not press her and instead briefly relayed what she had learned – from Kiritsugu – about Gilgamesh.

He had indeed been a French General who had expertly even if reluctantly been leading the troops into War; however, the death of one of his lieutenants and close friend Enkidu had extinguished in him any desire to fight for a meaningless objective. Arturia thanked Irisviel for the information and, after recommending carefulness, took her leave.

As she then walked up the mountain together with Gilgamesh and distractedly noticed that Enaya seemed restless again, Arturia had a new dilemma to face. Because the War had arrived and there was no escaping it, she _could_ keep her promise to her father while also doing something about it, but the problem was, since she was opting not to choose a side, what could she do? She didn’t have any power in either army and while she had been and still was a skilled fighter, she couldn’t end a war on her own.

The only way to stop the War was through a treaty; however, would two armies that had already shed such an incredible amount of blood be ready to do something like that? Both sides would have to agree to it; she still had some contacts in the British army and perhaps there was the possibility to convince them to listen to her, but would that work for the French army?

Her eyes fell on the man who was walking next to her. He may be a deserter, but he had held a position of high authority in the French army. That didn’t mean that he would be willing to go back there – especially after what she had just found out from Irisviel – not even to try and negotiate a treaty.

She proceeded to let him know her thoughts.

“Even if no diplomatic solution can be found, at the very least the War has to be taken away from these lands,” she concluded.

Gilgamesh remained silent for a long while, before saying, in a deceptively light tone, “There is indeed a rather large amount of absurdity in watching two completely brainless armies tear each other to shreds for no reason, but it’s even worse to see how many… others… are being involved.”

He fixated his eyes on her with a severe look. “What I do not appreciate about your plan is that it means that we would be parting ways.”

They had almost reached her farm now, and Arturia realized that there was something strange: even though it was rapidly becoming dark since the sky was cloudy and it was evening, the forest seemed to be unusually bright.

The wind suddenly changed, and Enaya started barking loudly.

And when the smell of burnt wood reached her nostrils, Arturia realized with a horrified feeling of dread that she had no more time to make a choice: the decision had been made for her.

Ignoring Gilgamesh’s hand that had grabbed her arm, she ran forward, her wolf following her.

Before she could even reach the farm, the distant sound of a thunder could be heard, and the skies opened. Torrential rain started falling, and Arturia knew that it was going to stop the fire, but given how bright the forest had seemed to be, she doubted there was much left to save.

As she finally reached the slightly hidden clearing where her farm was supposed to be, she found out that things were not as bad as she had feared. The stables – thankfully empty – were completely destroyed, but the greenhouse appeared to be still standing, even though it had obviously been raided, and the hut was mostly untouched. Someone had tried to break down the door, but had been unsuccessful.

The last flames were already dying under the rain as Gilgamesh appeared at her side, a hand going to rest on her shoulder. She didn’t push him off, and simply assessed the damage.

It seemed that she had taken her animals to the village just in time, as on this very day, an army – probably the British one, judging by the colour of some pieces of uniform scattered around – had tried to raid her isolated sanctuary.

She glanced at Enaya. The wolf was sniffing the ground around the hut carefully but giving no sign of unease now that the fire had been extinguished, meaning that there were no other people around except them.

Taking a deep breath, Arturia went to unlock the door, with some difficulty due to its now slightly crooked frame. Without a word, Gilgamesh came to help her.

Once inside, she went to open the pantry and the small room she had chosen to use as an armoury, before starting to pack. She prepared two large travelling bags with supplies, a blanket and weapons, handing one to Gilgamesh. She went to the washroom to change into her travelling clothes and then went to the bedroom, gesturing for Gilgamesh to follow her. Keeping to their silence, he followed her.

Pushing her bed to the side and then removing a thin rug from the ground, Arturia revealed a hidden trapdoor underneath.

“This place was once a fort,” she explained. “This is a tunnel that leads out of the mountain, on the other side of both the Indian and the Quaker village.”

She then started collecting most of the remaining blankets and anything else that could be useful, storing it all behind another, smaller trapdoor on the other side of the room.

As soon as she was done, she gestured for him to enter the tunnel first. But he simply looked at her, still without saying a word.

The next second, Gilgamesh was pulling her into his arms and was kissing her passionately. Without hesitation, Arturia responded, kissing him back with equal, if not superior, heat.

It took several long seconds for them to separate – Enaya was staring at them quietly from the corner of the room, her eyes for once holding no judgement – and when they did their breath was laboured.

“When I woke up in your hut,” Gilgamesh said after a few moments, his voice low, “I did consider escaping as quickly as possible.” His hand came to touch her cheek very gently. “It’s good that I didn’t pursue that initial thought, because now I have found something I want much, much more.”

His forehead pressed against hers as he spoke, and then he was kissing her again.

This time, when they broke apart, his lips only left hers to leave a trail of kisses along her jaw and then slowly down her neck. Arturia’s breath hitched, and she only pushed him away once he reached her collarbone. His hands had gone around her waist, and they tightened when she gently pointed out that it was time for them to go.

Arturia’s hand tentatively went up and touched his shoulder.

“I promise you that, if I survive, I will find you again.”

Gilgamesh shook his head, his expression unreadable, and she hesitated, wondering if she had misunderstood him. But he simply took her hand from his shoulder and held it in his, squeezing it tightly.

“That is not enough of a promise for me,” he told her plainly.

She raised both eyebrows at him as he gestured in the direction of the now destroyed stables. “You have seen what this War is doing to these places. For now, it’s not permanent – your stables can be rebuilt, and you may even need someone else around to do that. Especially since there could be room for another person.” She refused to acknowledge the implication of him wanting to live there with her when he paused. “You know that, very soon, the War will demand more. But your life cannot be among those demands.”

His gaze was piercing. “Promise that you will stay alive. Make an oath of survival.”

It was her turn to shake her head.

“That’s an impossible promise to make,” she objected.

“It isn’t,” he refuted. “I will promise you the same.”

That gave her pause. He was much more likely to be in danger, given that he wasn’t just an army General, but a deserter at that. Enaya came to her side, nudging her leg with her nose gently before quietly sitting down next to her feet.

“I give you my word,” she said after a pause, and saw the ghost of a smile flicker across his face before he repeated her same promise.

Gilgamesh leaned forward to once again capture her lips.

“This place is nothing like the magnificent palaces I grew up in in Europe, yet it’s still incredibly beautiful,” he told her when he pulled back. “Mostly because you have a tendency of turning every place you are in into a reflection of yourself.”

Arturia raised both eyebrows at him, her arms now around his neck and her lips moving against his even as her cheeks reddened slightly.

“There was no need for you to use such a convoluted comparison to call me beautiful, Gilgamesh.”

Gilgamesh grinned widely.

“That, my dearest, is not up to you to decide.” A strange smile curved his lips even more, his eyes never leaving her. “If you turn out to be someone who keeps this very important oath, I will however endeavour to apologize for my extraordinary comparison.”

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End file.
